


Cordially Yours

by FloralAspicConfection



Category: Fable 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental housemates, F/M, Reaver already tried to kill her for a while so now he's swapped gears to just flirting with her, occurs after Sparrow buys the Bloodstone Manor and after Reaver returns from Samarkand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloralAspicConfection/pseuds/FloralAspicConfection
Summary: Reaver brings a gift home to the Bloodstone Manor.
Relationships: Hero of Bowerstone/Reaver (Fable)
Kudos: 15





	Cordially Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the general timeline I have for my own Sparrow. Takes place a year after the events of Fable 2. After Fable 2 Sparrow bought the Bloodstone Manor and when Reaver returned from Samarkand they were both too damn stubborn to move out. So instead they became housemates.

It was approaching twilight in the little coastal city of Bloodstone, the eastern most of Albion’s continental settlements that just so happened to be primarily operated by all manner of pirates and smugglers. It was an odd sort of time of day, almost like a liminal space that existed somewhere in the spaces in between the clock hands, too late in the day for the dock laborers to be hauling their morning cargo and contraband to and fro, but too early for the raucous revelry and carousing that was so popular amongst the city of rogues to have kicked off quite yet.

Sparrow was curled up comfortably in the Bloodstone Manor study, her legs tucked up close to her body and back braced against the cushion-covered arm of the settee. A crocheted blanket, one of Sparrow's own homier additions to the otherwise stately manse, was stretched across her lap, warming her legs as she quietly read from one of the many tomes plucked from the shelves of her pirate companion’s collection, compiled over many years and many countries over the course of his travels. The study was Sparrow’s favorite room in the house and had brought her much comfort during her year alone in the spacious abode. It had been a difficult and lonely year with the passing months marked only by the books she finished, steadily stacking up like great towers on tables and beside chairs. She had never been alone before, not truly. She always had Rose or Theresa or even Dog to keep her company. Even in the Spire, Bob had offered some form of familiarity and companionship even as his memory steadily slipped through his fingers. After Lucien's death, however, she found herself very much on her own, and losing herself in the pages of the many volumes would at least help ease the pain if only for a little while.

Now that her fellow hero had returned, however, she’d found a different sort of comfort in the study. Not at first, of course, but after the initial shouting, half-hearted attempts at murder, and having all the locks changed thrice, they had both tentatively accepted one another's presence in the manor. They had also, incidentally, run all the local locksmiths out of town in the process. Nevertheless, the study was where they spent their evenings, as the sun slowly set, in one another’s quiet company. Reaver would pour himself a glass of overly expensive brandy and Sparrow would have hot cocoa or spiced tea, and they would silently read in the warm glow of the fireplace, occasionally trading stories or making silly quips about their days. It was...pleasant.

But it was too early for their nightly routine to have begun quite yet, so Sparrow was on her own for the moment being, though by the sound of approaching footsteps that would likely not be the case for much longer. “Ah Sparrow! There you are!” called her companion, appearing suddenly in the doorway, his long, lithe form all dressed in finely tailored clothes and raven curls coiffed to perfection as per his usual standards. In his hands he held a tin box that Sparrow had never seen before, decorated garishly in golden filigree and saccharine pastoral scenery. “I just so happened to have procured something from a passing merchant that I think you will find most delightful.”

Sparrow smiled amicably, sliding the satin bookmark between the pages of her book and tucking it away, her attention now fully given to the man in front of her. “What did you get?” Reaver sat down beside her in one smooth motion, arranging himself elegantly with his legs crossed before popping open the top of the tin where she could peer into its contents. The inside was filled with what looked like small, chocolate orbs, only about half a finger in length, the likes of which Sparrow had never seen before. She cocked her head to the side curiously when he offered no explanation. “What are they?”

“Ah!” said Reaver, plucking one of the chocolates from its place with two gloved fingers. He popped it halfway into his mouth, biting down with his perfectly pearly teeth and pulling the remaining half away to show Sparrow a bisected view of the sweet. The inside was filled with a syrupy carmine liquid in the middle of which was suspended a morsel of pink fruit flesh. “Cherry cordials!” he provided boastfully, before pushing the second half between his lips and into his mouth.

“Cordials?” parroted Sparrow as she watched him decadently consume the sweet treat. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of those...Can I...try one?” The way she asked was so unimposing, almost hesitant yet tinged with excitement, as though she didn’t want to be a bother even though Reaver was practically offering them to her.

Reaver’s countenance seemed to swell somewhat as he so easily won her attention, his eyes narrowing and lips curling in a way that some might have described as quite predator-like, though Sparrow seemed unfazed. “Why of course, my Little Bird!” he replied, quite satisfied with himself. “Here, close your eyes and open up.” He took another chocolate from the tin with a flourish, smiling with some measure of mischief as she followed his instructions. Her big doe eyes fluttered close and her pink lips parted just so as she leaned in towards him, prepared to receive the gift he offered. A smug sense of satisfaction burned through his chest as he looked upon her receptive response, not even a moment’s hesitation or mistrust. It was his favorite and most vexing thing about Sparrow; she never once feared him, even when by all better judgement she should have. Still, he would not break this misbegotten trust today, though he did plan on testing its limits.

Instead of simply feeding her the cordial, he placed the sweet between his own lips, holding it there firmly before leaning in and slowly pressing them to her own. The lithe muscle of his tongue pushed the chocolate into her warm, waiting mouth, and he felt her gasp against his lips in surprise. She did not withdraw, however. Instead she bit down on the chocolate just enough to release a burst of tangy cherry liqueur that Reaver slowly, contentedly lapped at. The chocolate melted easily between their combined warmths, bitter and sweet as Reaver angled himself to indulge on her even more deeply.

He had only kissed her twice before this (and frankly the first time had been more her kissing him), but she seemed as receptive as ever, eagerly returning the affections he offered. Reaver let out a low groan of satisfaction that rumbled against her lips as one of his hands moved up to support the back of her neck, holding her there firmly as his fingertips twined in her teal locks. Her hands had found the lapels of his coat and were gripping the fabric with perhaps just a bit more strength than perhaps intended, a stitch or two popping under the strain of the raw power she was able to draw from the Archon’s blood that flowed through her veins. Usually she was much better about tempering her unnatural abilities, but at the moment she was finding it took a great deal more concentration to focus on such things than usual.

When Reaver finally withdrew, he cast her a self-satisfied smirk, making a show of licking his lips. “Mmmm _decadent_ aren’t they? They happen to be one of my favorites,” he said conversationally, as though nothing had happened while Sparrow looked on with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. He was teasing her, the bastard. She swallowed the cherry in silence. “Would you like another, my dear?”

Sparrow shook her head no as she pulled him forward by the collar, eagerly kissing him once more. Reaver’s lips curved up wolfishly against her own as he set the tin of sweets down on the table and turned his attention wholly towards his new favorite indulgence.


End file.
